


The other one

by allollipoppins



Series: Keeping up with the Holmes [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Or the one in which Sherlock and Yuuri know each other, Self-Indulgent, Wedding Invitation, this is mostly a self-indulgent one-shot not meant to be taken too seriously, you'd be surprised how
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-05 00:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13375866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allollipoppins/pseuds/allollipoppins
Summary: "John coughed into his fist to catch his attention. As soon as he did the charm broke, startling the man in his daze. John almost felt sorry, the poor thing looked like a deer in the headlights. Said person turned towards where John stood in the doorway. And gasped audibly.“Oh!” the young man exclaimed, eyes and mouth open wide, before his lips morphed into a smile. “It’s you!”John blinked. What?"* * *Set between s1 & s2.





	The other one

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little anxious at the thought of posting this. This will be my first "fic" for the Sherlock fandom, one I only got reacquainted with a few weeks ago thanks to friend proposing we marathon the series. And this hc wouldn't leave me alone, no matter how ridiculous and impossible it is. I just really liked, and got to writing this one-shot in an hour. It's rushed and pretty unrealistic, and not my best writing, but I'm always open to criticism :) It was mostly meant to be written for fun, but I'll see what I'll do with it next if I get responses.
> 
> This work was unbeta'ed and written by a person whose first language is not English. I own neither Yuri on Ice nor BBC Sherlock, only the idea in a way.

The newcomer had Asian features, John could tell as much from the angle he himself stood in, and looked to be very young. He wouldn’t give him more than 25 years old, and that was at the very most. He was dressed warmly too, even though it was miraculously beginning to get a little warmer in London. It wasn’t so much this that surprised him. Rather the way he wore the dark garments, a long dark coat with the collar turned up and black pants, a scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. It was almost familiar, in an eerie way.

 

John also noticed the way he stood in the middle of the room. Calmly, taking in every detail with great curiosity, not in the hungry way most of Sherlock’s fans did when they came – and boy were they a lot – or in the spooked manner some had when they took in the disaster that their flat was in its usual mess, or worse, with one of Sherlock’s latest experiments lying on the kitchen table. No, this one seemed more… appraising, familiar with the setting, assessing everything as if it wasn’t the first time he had been here, at the centre of this living room, trying to find subtle changes.

 

John coughed into his fist to catch his attention. As soon as he did the charm broke, startling the man in his daze. John almost felt sorry, the poor thing looked like a deer in the headlights. Said person turned towards where John stood in the doorway. And gasped audibly.

 

“Oh!” the young man exclaimed, eyes and mouth open wide, before his lips morphed into a smile. “It’s you!”

 

John blinked. What?

 

The stranger seemed to realize what he had said and shook his head abashedly, a slight flush tainting his cheeks. “Ah, I’m so, so sorry for the outburst. I just didn’t expect you to be here.” His gaze – he had brown eyes, John noted distractedly – turned blank as soon as he had. “Although that’s a bit ridiculous of me to think because this is your flat, after all, why wouldn’t you be there inside your flat? Silly me.” He laughed nervously, making John have pity for him, but no less suspicious.

 

“Sure. Can I… help you?”

 

The stranger – John really need to ask for his name – frowned. “Me?” he asked pointing at himself. After a moment, his expression relaxed a bit, shifting back to the half-confused, half-sheepish face he had sported earlier. “Oh, I see, you think I’m a… no no no, don’t worry about me, I’m not a client.”

 

“Then if I may ask, who are you? You’re not one of Sherlock’s fans, are you? Or some kind of assessor?”

 

He laughed at that, as if John had told him a funny joke. “No, I can assure that I’m none of that, Doctor Watson.”

 

It only served to make him even more confused. “Excuse me, but do I know you?”

 

“From the looks of it… Afraid not, Doctor Watson.”

 

Sherlock chose exactly this moment to materialize inside the room, coming just behind John.

 

“Hi Sherlock!” the stranger exclaimed, looking happy – happy? – to see him.

 

They shared eye contact for what felt like eternity to John, before Sherlock broke away. “Get out.” He simply said, already moving to the kitchen.

 

Too bad the other wasn’t deterred. “Come on, Sherlock, don’t be like that.”

 

Sherlock sighed, his back to the both of them. “I don’t have time for you, Yuuri, so if you would please just leave...”

 

“Bullshit,” Yuuri dead-panned. “You’re not even in the middle of a case, are you?”

 

“I’m sorry,” John said in disbelief, catching the others’ attention, ‘but could someone please tell me what is going on right now?”

 

Yuuri, if such was his name, answered before Sherlock could. “I was in the neighbourhood, and I thought, “oh it’s been a while since I last saw Sherlock, I should pass by and say hi!”

 

Sherlock frowned, facing him again. “Well, you’re here now and you’ve already said “hi,” now get out.”

 

“Sherlock!” John admonished.

 

Yuuri shook his head good-naturedly. “Oh don’t worry Doctor Watson, Sherlock is always like that, but you of all people would know that.”

 

Sherlock interrupted him.“Is there any particular reason why you should be here?”

 

Yuuri’s face turned serious. “Please. You know exactly why I’m here. There is no need to play games with me Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock sighed. “Fine then. There are mud and water stains on your shoes, not very high but low enough to have been caused by rubbing against a surface that scratched continuously with them, so four-wheeled luggage. There are bags under your eyes, most probably due to lack of sleep, not to mention the coffee I can smell on your breath. To take-away, cold given how dilated your pupils are. Your hair had been neatly combed, and yet there are traces of gel from last night which are still in it. Traces that you didn’t wash away this morning because you apparently were in too much of a hurry to take a longer shower. Dog hair, scattered all over your clothes, from the bottom of your jeans to your coat. Long coat with a high collar, your warmest one by the way, even though it’s the middle of spring, though where you came from there is little difference between the season. Which leaves me the second option, obviously hiding hickeys – don’t think I don’t see them. And then there is the matter of the pockets, practicably deep and in which you’ve kept your hands buried this whole time. Clenched, but not so much with tension than due to something else, something important and pressing enough that you felt the need to come here all the way from Saint Petersburg in the middle of the dancing season just to ask me something, so not just passing by. To which I repeat my question again, what are you doing here?”

 

Yuuri smiled up at him, quite content with his answer. This only served to confuse John further. “Impressive as ever, Sherlock. But you’re missing an important bit.”

 

“Back at you, Eurus.” Sherlock shot back, staring back at Yuuri – or was it Eurus now? – with equal determination.

 

Yuuri sighed, a mixture of exhaustion and exasperation all at once. “Don’t be like that, Sherlock.”

 

An unspoken moment passed between the two of them, until Yuuri finally extracted his right hand from his pocket. A ray of light caught on the fourth finger, making a golden band shimmer where it sat on Yuuri’s finger. Oh, John mentally concluded. Married.

 

Then his eyes caught sight of the envelope in Yuuri’s palm, extended towards Sherlock. Sherlock didn’t make a move to take it, only staring blankly back and forth from the ring to the envelope. From the colour of the envelope, a rich and creamy beige, and the elegant calligraphy that adorned the back, it wasn’t so hard to tell what is was. Soon to be married, John corrected himself.

 

“That is a wedding invitation.” Sherlock pointed the obvious, not mentioning the ring.

 

Yuuri nodded. “Correct. Two, if you want to be more precise, you and a guest of your choice. And I believe I won’t be insulting you or Doctor Watson by stating you’ll be picking him as a plus one.” He glanced briefly at John, pointedly fixing him as the last words rung out in the room. John was certain there was a blush decorating his face.

 

“What even makes you think that we’ll be going? John doesn’t know you, and I don’t –”

 

“You don’t like weddings, yes I know that already, but please consider this, Sherlock.” His gaze turned pleading, reminding John of his first impression of him. “You don’t have to stay for the reception. Hell, you don’t have to stay the whole ceremony if you don’t want to. I just...”

 

Yuuri inhaled sharply, looking for his words. Sherlock had the grace to patiently wait. “I want to make sure Victor’s the one, you know? I love him, and I know he feels the same way about me, but I just need a confirmation, okay? I’m not as good as you with this sort of things.”

 

Sherlock only snorted at the last part. “You have been trained to lie and deceive, I think you of all people would know better than anyone if Victor were pretending with you.”

 

“True, as you so eloquently remarked,” Yuuri rolled his eyes. “However,” his gaze turned serious again, “I am a man in love, Sherlock, and because of that I have every reason not to trust my judgement right now. All I need is an “okay”, should things go wrong.”

 

“I should also mention that Mummy and Daddy will be coming too. Mycroft I can’t speak for. If anything I’d like to spare all of us the embarrassment should Victor decide to back out at the last minute.”

 

“That sure would be fun,” Sherlock remarked drily. “The living legend of figure skating leaving the groom at the altar. One would think you would consider the humiliation it would bring you firsthand.”

 

“Sherlock...” Yuuri made these puppy eyes at him again that almost made John want to give him a hug and pat him on the bag.

 

It didn’t have the similar effect on his partner, though it was a close one when he finally sighed. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

 

“Oh, thank you!” Without waiting further he practically jumped on Sherlock and wrapped his arms around him. Sherlock’s own awkwardly stayed at his side, blankly gazing down as Yuuri hugged him to near death. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

 

“Yes, yes, yes I got it, now shoo.” Yuuri pulled back, gazing up at Sherlock in what appeared to John like near adoration. He then nodded at him, then at John who answered with his own, still bemused. As Yuuri made to leave through the door, Sherlock stopped him.

 

“Yuuri?” he asked. The young man turned back to him, curiosity in his eyes. Sherlock’s gaze, to John’s surprise, appeared to soften.

 

“I would have come, even if you hadn’t asked.”

 

Yuuri’s answering smile was almost blinding, if not slightly wobbly. “Sherlock…” he whispered.

 

Sherlock’s good humor didn’t last so long though. “Oh, off with you. And tell that fiancé of yours to be good to you unless he wants to end up on an autopsy table at St Bart’s as my new experiment.”

 

Yuuri chuckled. “Will do. Oh, and goodbye to you too, Doctor Watson, I hope to see you again very soon.”

 

They heard him descending with a spring in his step, fast enough for John to wonder if it was safe for him to speed so. Sherlock had already turned to his violin by the time Yuuri closed the door of 221B Baker Street behind him, not without saluting Mrs Hudson.

 

“Oookay,” John started, turning to Sherlock as he tuned his violin. “So who was this?”

 

“Yuuri?” Sherlock mused absent-mindedly, attention now wholly focused on the cords. “Oh, no one important. My brother often does that, popping in, when he needs help with something.”

 

It took John a second longer than it should have to click.

 

What.

 

“Wait what? What do you mean, he is your brother too?!”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments of any kind are always appreciated :)  
> I'm @AriL10N355 on twitter and @allollipoppins on tumblr if you feel like yelling at me!


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